


Awakening

by deutschtard



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 15:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deutschtard/pseuds/deutschtard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers wasn't the only man Coulson watched while he was sleeping...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awakening

He knows he’s being watched. He can feel it. His body wakes him slowly, but betrays nothing, his face stays slack, his expression peaceful. He’s being watched from close,  _very_  close, which makes his fingers clench around the gun under his pillow. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he prepares himself to whip the gun out and fire.

And then he smells it: the faint, woodsy smell of cologne. Not just anyone’s cologne, his handler’s cologne. Coulson’s cologne. His palm spreads back out against the underside of his pillow, and he lets himself smile. Without opening his eyes, he looks directly at where he can sense Coulson is, just inches away from the bed, parallel to his knees. “You’re not gonna tell me you’re a vampire next, are you?”

Coulson stiffens, he hadn’t noticed Clint stir in the dark, “What? No,” he stammers out, “I was just—“

“Watching me sleep like a Creepy McCreeper,” Clint’s eyes open, and he props himself up on his elbows. He takes in what he can see from the man’s stance—hands clasped in front of him: he’s hiding something, slight beading of sweat on his forehead: he’d made him nervous—but it takes him by surprise to see his boss, one of the only men he trusts, not in his signature Black Government Suit.

No, He’s wearing a Captain America t-shirt and dark pajama bottoms. Clint smiles more, his teeth showing, “I’m just kidding. Any  _actual_  reason you’re in here, sir? I figure if we had a mission I’d be dressed and on a jet already.”

“No,” Coulson keeps himself composed, clears his throat. Something in the back of his head is screaming, fearful. It’s been a long time since he’s thought about doing this, he doesn’t even know why he’s doing it right now, but he felt like he needed too, like if he’d waited any longer, he wouldn’t get to, or something terrible like that. A slight smile dances on his lips as he continues speaking, “I’m not here under official capacity.”

That makes Clint quirk an eyebrow, “So I don’t have to call you sir anymore.”

Coulson smiles, “No, Clint. You don’t have to call me sir.”

They stare at each other like that for a moment as the seconds tick like hours, and everything is so quiet Clint can almost hear the water in the cup next to him evaporating. “So,” he says, “Would you care to join me, Coulson?”

He doesn’t expect Clint’s forwardness, when really, he should. He’s known him for longer than he was willing to admit. A slight, quiet nod, and he’s watching Clint pull back the covers on the other side of the bed. Coulson admires the sight of abs, pecs and shoulders exposed, smooth enough he can already imagine his lips pressed against them. He climbs in next to Clint, his agent, his best friend, and smiles, letting one of those toned arms wrap around his waist. “You can call me Phil, if you’d like.”

“Alright,” Clint says, craning his neck up to kiss the angle of his jaw, “Goodnight, Phil.”


End file.
